After a Zoom Christmas and Zoom New Year’s Eve, 2021 brought hope and a new vaccine. Health care workers were getting their shots in January. Older people were next. We are older. I am 99 and will turn 100 on December 14. My husband, Roger, is 97, and up until October, we still lived in our own home in Beverly. We were excited about getting the COVID-19 vaccine and getting back to our lives, with family members dropping by.
I missed my weekly “goal meetings” with my friend Alice, where we shared our writing progress and hopes for the future. Roger, who before the pandemic played the saxophone in two bands a week, especially missed the camaraderie of his fellow musicians and just playing his beloved sax. He has loved it since he was very young; he had a room at our house dedicated to his saxophones of all kinds and vintages.
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Alice and her husband had scheduled their shots at a site in Lynn, and by the end of February they were fully vaccinated. They reported a party-like atmosphere at the vaccination site — everyone was so relieved. We asked our doctor if someone could come to our house to give us a shot, but his office did not have a vaccine supply and he told us we’d have to travel to a site. Because mobility is a problem for us, that was not going to work. So we waited and waited and waited.
March turned into April, and then we got the call: A nurse would be coming to our house on the following Monday to give us the Johnson & Johnson shot! But on Monday, we learned our appointment had been delayed because some people had had a bad reaction to the vaccine. So we waited again.
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It would be two more weeks before the next call came — a nurse would be coming over that Wednesday! Kathy, our eldest daughter, planned to drive down from Vermont to be part of the big event.
On Wednesday we heard a knock at the door. “Hello,” a nurse greeted us. We rolled up our sleeves and he gave us the shot at long last. We were free.
The nurse commented on the special lights Roger had installed in the kitchen rafter, and they got talking about home improvement. As they chatted away, the nurse took out his iPhone and showed Roger a picture of his home.
Feeling grateful, Roger said, “I would like to play a song on my saxophone to thank you.” Roger selected his favorite sax and played “Amazing Grace.” The nurse joined in, singing in French, and Kathy chimed in, also in French. It turned out that the nurse had grown up in Paris. We all sang “Amazing Grace” in English the second time. This time Roger put down his saxophone and sang the tenor part. What a special day!
Some weeks later, a foot specialist arrived at the house. Roger played “Memories of You” for her and then we all sang “Amazing Grace.” The nurse said she used to sing in her church choir.
Roger even played for the ambulance drivers who came some weeks later when I fell. Roger said later that he didn’t play the “bridge part” of “Memories of You” as he didn’t want to hold up the drivers. Another day, it was the air conditioning repairman. When Roger asked him if he could thank him for his work by playing “Amazing Grace” on his saxophone, the man said, “Sure, but if you don’t mind, I would like to record it on my iPhone, as my wife would never believe me.”
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We’ve recently moved to a rehabilitation center, but rest assured — Roger brought one of his saxophones along. Just this afternoon, he played for an hour and a half for a roomful of residents and family members. After all the isolation and waiting, music has brought us together, and we are grateful.
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Mary Sue and Roger Wonson are the authors of “Down River: A Memoir of Choate Island.” Alice Gardner contributed to this story. Send comments to magazine@globe.com.